Do birds breathe heavy? I was sitting in my car, the egg, listening to someone on NPR talk about whether "blog" will last as a prefix (as opposed to a faddish trend such as "cyber" in the '90s) when I noticed a robin hopping about the foliage. I noticed when it stopped that the bird seemed to be breathing heavily, its puffed chest moving back and forth in a quick , rocking motion. It was almost comic, it looked so strange. I've never noticed how a bird breathes. It hopped away as though nothing was wrong.
It's very hot out. Perhaps the bird is affected by it. I can't remember if birds are warm blooded.
The heat and humidity have lingered all week, burning the ground and firing up tensions. Last night I umpired another playoff game. Both my playoff games have involved the Angels (a team I've mentioned in at least one previous posting). The game was in Summit and pitted the Angels against the Summit team coached by a guy I almost tossed last year. He's kind of a Bobby Valentine type; he argues about everything -- always in front of his players -- yet he also tries to joke around as though he's your buddy. Given the significance of the game (single elimination tournament) I expected trouble. While there was one play early that he disputed, the game was so well played by both teams that the game rolled along at a good pace. The Summit team lost by one run. They had a runner on base in the bottom of the 7th, and their best hitter up at the plate popped up to the first baseman. Afterward, the Angels coach asked if I was available to ump on Saturday. I guess I'm doing fine.
Maureen and I went out last night to celebrate her gaining a new client. We both needed to get out of the house, where the central air conditioning is timid and the fan disrupts our sweaty sleep. Maureen has felt ill for a few days, lethargic in the heat and a little nauseated. The washing machine is still not working, and she's been concerned about an old friend she spoke with recently whose injuries from an accident a couple years ago left her with brain damage. Sitting in a veritable sauna doesn't make her work easier.
Since I'd had the game, followed by a meeting with the Scottish group, I didn't get home till nearly 10. Maureen and I went down to McLynn's for a late meal and a few drinks. We needed to get out and relax with each other. I spent the exact amount I'd earned that night umpiring. We got home around 1 a.m., much later than I'd planned. I didn't write, I didn't run. Still, it was a productive night. I'm breathing easier.
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